Love's Greatest Sacrifice
by King Faerie
Summary: Dealing with the loss of Sirius is hard for Harry. He pulls back into a deep depression and utter insanity when he is left with nothing but memories. Will he ever come back?
1. Angel of my Dreams

Love's Greatest Sacrifice

**Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, they all come from the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling and I had nothing to do with it…unfortunately. I just write for your entertainment entirely**.**I appreciate your feedback and your reviews are what keep me going.**

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

**Chapter 1: The Angel of my Dreams**

Two months passed by. Two months he sat there staring out the open window of his bedroom looking out at the world that was oblivious to the dangers that were quite apparent in another place. Somewhere passed the rolling hills, where the green of the grass met the darkened sky and the sun disappeared behind it. There were troubles that couldn't be conceived by the unimaginative mind and he was prophesized to put a stop to it all.

For two months he had been forced into a life of isolation dwelling on the horrors that had befouled his mind, the mind of a teenager, the mind of a child. He was a child that had been forced into adulthood faster than his voice could crack, and now he was broken. Broken and left to pick up the pieces by himself.

He never waned to go back, he vowed to himself that he would never return to the place that had abandoned him…to the people that had left him alone, not knowing what kind of mental torture that he was putting on himself…oblivious to the pain that he had been caused.

And yet…here he was.

Harry Potter trudged through the crowded terminals of the King's Cross Station maneuvering the flatbed that carried his two trunks, other packaged items and his owl Hedwig who was sleeping quietly in her cage. He stared straight forward, not bothering to indulge himself in his surroundings. If one had known Harry before the past year they would have described him as a troubled boy who tried desperately to be happy and have a life of his own, just at first glance but now just by looking at the sixteen year old raven-haired, green-eyed boy bursting into tears and reeling into fetal position was highly likely.

His skin was a sickly pale color due to extreme lack of sun, and food. His hair was longer and mussed about his head covering his ears and cascading down his face halfway over his thick wire-rimmed glasses that had once again been patched in the middle with Scotch tape. The glasses shielded his emerald green eyes that held so much pain and anguish that they had begun to look cold, dull and unfeeling.

His faded jeans and six-size-too-big jumper hung off of him like an elephant skin, and under them was a torso that had been beaten black and blue from his own self-infliction.

The summer had done him horrible. Everyday he woke up in the same chair by the window and stared at the sky until the sun blinded him. He went to the bathroom, and then went back to his chair. On more than one occasion he began scratching at his skin nervously, not feeling the pain he caused himself…it was nothing compared to what he had been through. The Dursley's fed him scraps from their table, three or four times a day, but he hardly ever ate. Eating was for the people who deserved it…and in his mind he did not.

Harry didn't receive any letters from his friends, or from anybody else. The only connection he had to the Wizarding World he had was through the Daily Prophet and he would rather line of Hedwig's cage with that rubbish then read it, so that's what he do. Then he would sit some more and think…and think…and think until the sun went down and his eyes willed him to sleep. No one could tell what he was thinking about, the Dursley's certainly didn't care and for some reason, Hedwig seemed to just ignore Harry by pretending to sleep. Maybe she sensed a sudden change in him. But what did they know? They all lived sheltered lives, and they knew nothing of the battles raging in his head.

Harry had become so angry, he blamed himself for what happened to his Godfather at the Department of Mysteries. He blamed himself for the injuries, and possible deaths of his friends…he blamed himself for everything. All the things he couldn't control and for all the things he could. Horrible nightmares plagued his mind once sleep overtook him. Nightmares of Sirius falling through the veil, his friends dropping at his feet one by one, lots of blood, slow and painful deaths and those sinister red eyes showing themselves right before the morning came, leaving him to cradle his head in his arms because of the searing in his scar. The voices in his head were just the topping on the cake.

They did nothing but agree with the horrible things he said about himself, which only caused him to hurt himself more, not intentionally of course, but how was he to know? He hadn't been paying attention much to anything over the summer. He hated it, he hated everything…but then, what was hate anymore? He didn't know. How could anyone see where the lines of hate stopped and love began?

For Harry it was all the same…

He found, that when he snapped out his reverie that he was coming up to the support beam standing tall directly in the middle of Stations Nine and Ten. He didn't look around to check and see if anyone was watching him, he just slipped through, immediately greeted with the intimidating sight of the great Scarlet train.

Ever since first year Harry had always had a sense of calmness wash over him whenever he approached the train, he had always been happy to see it for it meant that there was someplace safe that he could go to…a safe haven he had nowhere else.

But that haven was gone and that sense of calmness was replaced wit a sense of impending doom!

Harry shook his head and grabbed his things off of the flatbed, continuing on towards the train. He was very aware that people were staring at him as they were saying goodbye to their parents and parents saying goodbye to their children. He knew they all thought he was insane…insane or troubled. Either word would go well to describe the Great Harry Potter, their Savior from the damned.

'Some Savior I am. I can barely keep myself alive.' He thought to himself as he made his way to the very back of the train where he was sure no one would be. Harry settled in, putting his belongings in the overhead rack where things like that were stored and he nestled back into the comfy overstuffed seat. It was more comfortable than he had been for those whole two months away for summer. Soon he found himself drifting off into a horror filled sleep.

- - - - - - - - - -

Harry Potter awoke to the sounds of his own startled screams and somebody gently shaking him awake. "Harry…Harry wake up." It was a soft voice, the voice of an angel he was sure wanted to take him away from all of this.

'Yes, wake up Harry, wake up and face your destiny. Wake up Harry, wake up and feel.' The voice changed to the sinister slither that was always in his head, and he screamed louder, clutching around in the darkness for the owner the voice belonged to.

"Harry!" the voice was more forceful this time, but still gentle. Harry reached out with his arms and tugged, sure that he had caught the angel, sure that he was leaving everything behind…

When he felt a sharp pain in his head.

His eyes flew open, clouded by tears and he looked into the familiar worried face of none other than his best friend Hermione Granger.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

**A:N/ I know, I know, Harry's a little bit overly-emotional in this chapter, but it gets better. No worries. As I said before reviews with positive and negative feedback are important to writing.  
**


	2. Power is a Good Thing

**Chapter 2: Power is a Good Thing.**

**A/N: I appreciated the comments that I did receive, and the people who are continuing to read the story a bit more.**

Harry stared blindly, his screams had stopped and he was now rubbing his head irritably, blinking away the tears of pain that he had crept on him from an elbow to the head he received by the brunette who was currently on top of him.

"I'm so sorry Harry!" the girl squealed scrambling to get off of the already hurt boy who was lying belly-up on the floor. Hermione put out her hand to help him up, and he took it. Hermione was surprised at how easily she was able to pull him off of the floor.

She had a bright smile on her face as she put her things in the overhead compartment next to his. Like she as glad to see him or something, which he knew was probably true but that damned voice in his head kept denying it, causing him to believe it. "I'm so sorry that I couldn't talk to you. The Order forbid us from talking to you! You can imagine how furious Ronald and I were, I was pacing up and down my room just counting down the days until I was able to come and see you…and here you are…Harry!" she threw her arms around him and pulled him into a huge hug which he cringed away from.

An involuntary groan passed his lips from the sharp pain that was sent through his body when Hermione touched on healing bruises, cuts and scraps that lined his torso. And strangely he was even more hurt to see the sadness and confusion in her eyes when he did that. She opened her mouth to say something when more people filed into the medium sized compartment.

"Hello Harry!" Ron bellowed happily bounding forward and pulling him into a manly hug. Harry's eyes widened as his left eye twitched. Why was everybody in such a happy mood? And why did they feel the need to hug him? It caused him more pain than he was actually in…but he let that slide…he knew they didn't know.

But how could they? He was alone for two months…but nothing else was new.

Ginny looked at him strangely from his sickly pale face and to his hair and looked as if she might cry. "Hello Harry." She said, in that same sweet but forceful voice that was always so…so Ginny, and she moved in for a hug.

He cringed, but took the pain…yet again, trying to keep the tears that were welling in the back of his eyes from the stinging pain at bay.

"Alrigh' Harry?" Harry had to say that Neville's face had changed immensely. He still had that goofy look about him, but he wasn't as much of a butterball as he was the previous years, it seemed as if he had dropped some of his weight and his teeth actually looked proportionate to his head. Harry said nothing and only nodded as Neville moved in to give him a hug.

Harry couldn't take much more of it, and reeled back as if trying to defend himself. "No more hugs!" his voice was cracked, harsh and dry which could definitely be overlooked seeing that he hadn't talked for two months.

They all stared at him with immense confusion and he turned away from them, not wanting to face the concerned faces. He was silently thanking Luna for being the same, dreamy-eyed blond girl that didn't question the obvious, and didn't ask that obvious question that he could see on everyone's minds. What was wrong with him?

He knew why this was harder on him than it was supposed to be. If he had went through the summer months actually seeing them and writing to them, getting their opinions and finding closure and maybe once…just once hearing that the reason the sky was gray and why the grass was never greener on the other side wasn't his fault, he might have been happier.

Maybe.

But that didn't happen, and facing everybody that he saw now, dead in his dreams every night over and over again, and then waking up in that same damned chair only for it to happen again the next night wasn't closure.

It was torture…

He heard the hushed whispers and quiet tones that surrounded him as he stared out the window, and they continued until the train began to move only minutes later. He was grateful when they went back to their everyday lives…their everyday lives without him.

When he felt a hot prickly feeling in the back of his neck, he knew that a pair of brown eyes was watching him, and he knew that he wasn't out of the hole with her yet.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was about an hour or two into the train ride, not even close to nearing the halfway mark. The whole train ride thus far consisted of Hermione and Ron arguing about which Quidditch Team was better; The Ballycastle Bats or the Chudley Cannons, and then they started arguing on why Hermione cared in the first place, which Harry thought was faintly amusing and he began thinking they were arguing just to make him laugh. Which would have been an incredible feat considering everything up to this point.

As expected by Harry and probably everybody else in the compartment a silver-haired ferret and his two baboons visited them. Harry sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to pay attention to them, they were now trivial players in a game of war, and they weren't noticing.

"So, if it isn't the Potthead, Loon, Weasel, Weaselette, the Mudblood and the Failure. You have the whole gang up for a tea party, then." To Harry they seemed to be laughing at something that was not funny in the slightest, but apparently calling them those names had been a big joke on his part, probably because his brain was the size of a pebble.

"You shut up Malfoy, don't you dare call her that!"

"And what are you going to do if I don't Weasley? Get Potter over there to come and kill me too? Just like his criminal Godfather?"

At this Harry's head snapped up, and he could feel the blood bubbling under his skin. The heat coming from his was so great that those around him cowered away in fear, Malfoy, however, did not see this.

"Oh yeah Potter. I know. I know everything. How The Dark Lord lured you and your idiot friends to the Department of Mysteries, how you were cornered.." he chuckled and folded his arms over his chest with a knowing smirk. "And I especially know how my Aunt Bella killed your dear Godfather, Sirius Black, with the killing curse, before he could even defend himself."

Harry balled his hands into fists so tightly that his nails were cutting into his skin and the crimson blood was clearly visible as it dripped from his hands and onto the floor. It happened lightning fast, within a fraction of a second he was nose-to-nose with the Ferret, his head cocked to the side with a look of sheer insanity that caused Malfoy's eyes to widen. But there was something else there…more than a slight fear…Malfoy was terrified and looked to be to the point of pissing himself right then and there.

That was too much to say for Crabbe and Goyle who had already ran away.

With the same lightning quick speed he had one bony hand on Malfoy's neck, squeezing with force that did not come from the frail, malnourished boy he was over the summer, but that of an eviler sort. "Say his name once more and you die." His voice held that same cracked tone which only caused him to seem more maniacal than actuality. Harry seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, his own body, and his own mind. He wasn't himself, and he vaguely remembered Malfoy sputtering and coughing curses and threats, and Hermione' shrieks of horror, trying to tell Harry to let him go.

The other's just sat there.

"I'll…I'll get you for this Potter!" He knew what Malfoy was saying was a lie, seeing the look in the boy's eyes reminded him of a mouse caught in a trap, knowing that soon would be the end for him.

"I'll murder you in your sleep."

That only seemed to make the compartment louder, now with Ron joining in, and Hermione's insistent crying. He felt a soft hand on his shoulder and he looked back to see the owner of it. It was Hermione. Her tears had stopped falling but they left slight gray smears down her face, and it was then that Harry realized something insanely stupid.

She was wearing make-up.

"You're pretty…" he said dreamily, staring off at her face strangely and that's when he felt everything melt away. The heat emanating from him was gone, and the strength he once had diminished, and he was suddenly very, very tired.

When he turned back to the scene he found that Malfoy had gone, and he felt immediately calmer. He looked at Hermione once more and found that she looked more distressed and confused than she had been before.

Harry looked her up and down, curiosity playing across his face before he sat down, leaving himself to think.

'What just happened?' he asked himself. 'Power happened Harry, you now have power.'

'Is that a good thing?' Why he was talking to the sinister voice in his head was simple, because that had been his only source of companionship because Hedwig was completely ignoring him.

'Power is always a good thing.'

And Harry left it at that for now.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The train had arrived in Hogsmead station multiple hours after the departure from the King's Cross Station, but to Harry it felt like a lifetime.

They left shortly after that for their Prefects duties, and Harry was left alone with Ginny, Neville and Luna. The four of them sat in silence, Neville reading a book on Herbology, Ginny staring at the ceiling occasionally stealing glances at the black-haired boy and Luna wasn't even trying to hide her staring. Harry wished she would stop, it didn't even seem like she was looking at him…it was like he was looking inside him and picking him apart with her eyes. That was why he was thankful to go put on his robes, as a reason to leave.

They all left the train in silence, Ron and Hermione had come back now, and as Harry stepped off the Scarlet locomotive he took in a breath of fresh air…

And almost threw it back up.

The butterflies in his empty stomach made him feel horrible, and just looking at familiar surroundings was enough to make him silently dry heave. He stopped quickly, hoping it wouldn't be noticed and hurried on to catch a carriage by himself. He couldn't think clearly anymore…he was tired of thinking actually, but thinking about Sirius made him think about the Department of Mysteries which made him think about the Prophecy, which made him think about Voldemort…and strangely, every time he did he got this strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Not fear or loathing, as usual but something else…something he couldn't quite place…but what was it?

**A/N: I know this chapter was confusing, but I'm sorry, I had to put some of the stuff in there. Tips are welcome.**


End file.
